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Jean Henri Dunant

🇨🇿 Švýcarský obchodník a především humanista se narodil 8. května 1828 - jak už to bývá u úspěšných knih, v rámci léčení traumatu z bitvy u Solferina (1859) napsal veleúspěšnou knihu Vzpomínka na Solferino, která vedla k daleko většímu kroku 👇

- spoluzaložení Mezinárodního Červeného kříže 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 (společnost, která si za první úkol vzala pomoc vojákům a raněným, jejich nedotknutelnost a také ochranu zdravotnického personálu)

- iniciátor Ženevských smluv 🇨🇭

🥇PRVNÍ nositel Nobelovy ceny za mír 🕊️

🇬🇧 Swiss bussinesman and humanist was born on 8th of May in 1828 - as it is, complex and trauma is a good inspiration for succesful books and one of them was written after the Battle at Solferino (1859). The bestseller A Memory of Solferino led to even greater succes 👇

- co-founding of The International Red Cross 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 (comittee and company which first task was to provide a help and protection to soldiers, injured and medical staff) - initiator of Geneva Agreement

🥇FIRST Nobel Peace Prize laureate 🕊️ Legal FREE DOWNLOAD of A Memory of Solferino Oficiální stažení ZDARMA knihy Vzpomínky na Solferino v češtině

Synchronization is everywhere. Even on social media 🌿 #synchronous8 #english #czech #botswana #ecology #physic #math #smartissexy #greenissexy #synchronous #synchronicity #čeština #setswana #followforfollow #green #nature

#czech #math #čeština #physic #greenissexy #ecology #smartissexy #synchronicity #nature #botswana #followforfollow #green #english #synchronous8 #synchronous #setswana

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Fyzicky fit, fyzikálně fit. (v místě U Lemura)

Young Lord

Once upon a time there was a young sir. Youg Lord; very different from other young lords. He was ingrown. Eternity of universe in his mind and dark deeps in his soul were carefuly locked. He was looking for any way his feeling and thoughts wouldnt cause any harm to others. What a question. “How can I be me?” Young Lord didnt feel bad about himself but about the question of being himself. “My dear, sometimes people need to go through thorns to find their blossom.” Said his younger sister Lily. She smiled. He smiled. Young Lord went for his usual winter walk. Avoiding the trees didn’tlet him avoid his thoughts. “I would like - I need - to go through the thorns of my attitude but what are they? Is it a blue melancholia? Blue melancholia written with quill? What is written there? Sentences of doubt on my mind... Or could it be the red passion in my young inexperienced heart?” Hungry wolf of ignorance was biting the lord’s brain. Worms and night butterflies were his companions that night. In the most beautiful morning, so early that dark was not tired yet, young Lord was on his way back home. And then he saw something what made his tears fall down. So painful. So touching. So freezing. He saw an old man standing behind a tree. Rope in his bare, shaking hands; eyes looking up on the crown of the forest. His lips were saying something. Was he praying? Or was he enchanting himself? The rope between the trees, was tied up on wooden cage. It was just at the end of the trap. The end of life. Beginning of the end was sweet and red - cranberries. The blood drops on the untouched snow. Bittersweet bloody way should have been sign for a poor haunted creature. Suddenly, he saw the most beautiful animal that he had ever seen. Black feathers, head of a king, two eyes dark beads... The clueless bird was fascinated by easy and tasty way of cranberries. Right to the trap which will cost his life. Never to fly again. Never to feel free again. Eyes wide, heart beats fast, breathless. The young Lord turned back and ran away from the deep of the forest, the deep of his soul. On the edge of fields and forest he stopped. “Oh father... oh sister.” He realized what he saw. The raven was his mirror. Horrible picture of how the pave path can lead you to death, and battling with thorns will give you a blossom. (inspired by one and only Steven Wilson)